


Going Away Means Forgetting

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e12 New York City Serenade, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: A canon divergence of S3 episode New York City Serenade. Title taken from J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 80
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

A deep, shaky breath filled his lungs. They’d done it. They’d made it back. Back to New York. Back to her. Back to Henry. Back to the Land Without Magic while avoiding the newest curse. Now all they had to do was get the Saviour to do her thing. They just had to get her to remember first.

He could make her remember. He knew he could.

Reaching up, he gave three hard knocks to the door then waited with bated breath. The soft pad of footfalls resonated as she got closer to the door. When it swung open, revealing her after all this time, the air left his lungs.

“Emma.”

Her eyes went wide with recognition, and her mouth fell open in astonishment. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I-”

“How did you even find me?”

“Well-”

“You know what? No. I don’t care. You’re not welcome here.”

He couldn’t help but peer over her shoulder, wondering if a familiar flop of twelve-year-old brown hair would make an appearance.

“What are you looking for?” she hissed, closing the door to a mere sliver and obstructing his view of her apartment.

“Henry,” he answered without thinking, and her face went ghostly white.

“How did you...? Is _that_ why you’re here? Well, you can forget it. You’re not getting anywhere near my son.”

“Emma, please. I just need you to listen. I know you don’t remember-”

“Oh, I remember perfectly well-”

“No. You don’t. Not really.” He took a beat to consider his next move before whispering, “But I can make you.”

Lunging forward, his lips met hers and for a brief moment he was sure it had worked. Until a sharp pain in his nether region doubled him over.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“I-” he croaked, clutching himself protectively as he attempted to suck air back into his lungs.

“I want you gone, do you understand me? You don’t come back. If I so much as see your shadow, I’m calling the cops.” She threw him one last withering look before raising a brow at him.“I’m sure you have an outstanding warrant or two out there somewhere.”

The door slammed, shaking the hallway where he lay crumpled.

 _Well, that didn’t go as planned,_ he forlorned, picking himself up off the floor and hobbling back towards the exit. “Fuck… Killian is going to kill me.”

~/~

“Bloody hell. We agreed to wait!”

Killian was furious. It would be a lie to say when he’d awoken that morning to find Neal gone he hadn’t panicked just a tad. Memories of being alone in the strange city, seeking out the crocodile before being knocked unconscious and abandoned had invaded his mind, and he’d questioned whether Neal had finally gotten his pay back for Neverland. That perhaps he’d gone and found Emma and their son and left for Storybrooke without him. Not that it wouldn’t serve him right. Despite their tenuous alliance, Killian knew he still had much to atone for with Bae… er, Neal.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I… I screwed up big time.”

Releasing a deep sigh, Killian pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to rein in his ire. “She didn’t remember you, I take it.”

“Oh, she remembered me, alright,” Neal gruffed with false amusement. “She remembers me as the dirt bag that stuck her with stolen watches and left her in jail. Pregnant.”

“Tell me you didn’t mention…” Killian began, fixing his stare upon the idiotic man, and willing his answer to be anything other than what he knew it would be.

“It sort of… slipped out.”

“Slipped out? How does you mentioning the son you aren’t supposed to know anything about _slip out_?”

“Look. I already said I screwed up, okay? Can we maybe try and find a way to salvage this?”

Killian scrubbed a hand down his face, his nostrils flaring as he remembered to breathe. “I suppose we could try going to her together, as we’d agreed to do in the first place.”

Neal winced slightly at the cut in Killian’s tone, reminding him of the agreement they’d made back in the Enchanted Forest and again after arriving back in this realm late in the night. “We can’t,” he replied defeatedly. “Emma said she’d call the cops if she saw me again, and my record isn’t exactly clean… Plus, there’s the whole kiss thing.”

“The what?” Killian’s head snapped up from where it had been propped in his hand, his fingers toying with the scruff under his bottom lip as they tended to do when he was deep in thought.

“I-I,” Neal stuttered. “I kissed Emma.” Killian’s jaw muscle clenched under the fresh strain of his teeth grinding together. “I thought, maybe…”

“That you could wake her with a kiss,” Killian finished.

Both men stood silent, considering the implications over such a revelation that Neal’s kiss had not been enough to break the curse currently afflicting the woman of their mutual desires.

“I don’t understand why it didn’t work,” Neal muttered solemnly. “She said she loved me. After I was shot, before I fell through Tamara’s portal.” Neal began to pace along the deck as Killian looked on. The same questions swirled through his mind and bubbled up from his gut, though if he were being honest, they were most likely tinged with more hope than the dismay Neal’s seemed to be colored with. “When we got back to Storybrooke, Snow told me that Emma had confessed to her that she’s always loved me, and probably always would. So why didn’t the kiss work?”

Killian had his theories, but opted to keep them to himself. “We can’t worry over that now,” he stated, bringing them back to the real issue at hand. “we have to figure out our next course of action. How do we get the Saviour back to Storybrooke.”

“What good will that do if she doesn’t remember who she is?”

“There’s magic in Storybrooke,” Killian reminded. “Surely Regina or the fairies will be able to find a way to restore her memories once we get her back there.”

Neal nodded while mulling over his words, neither of them needed to voice the addition running through both their minds. Rumplestiltskin. The crocodile might also be able to restore Swan’s memories, if he’d been able to get free of the witch before the curse hit. There was still so much neither he nor Neal knew about this new curse. Who had cast it? What was the Wicked Witch’s end game? Had it brought the entirety of the Enchanted Forest back? What other realms might have been affected by it? So many unanswered questions.

Truth be told, Killian was still reeling over the fact Baelfire - _Neal_ \- had come to him for help in the first place.

_Several weeks ago, the Enchanted Forest…_

_Hook clenched his fist beneath the table and fought to keep his composure. “Your father is… back? How?”_

_“Belle and I made our way to his castle. I figured if there was a way to bring him back, the answer would be there.” Bae explained in hushed tones, scanning the tavern patrons for any signs that they were being overheard. “We came upon a man, cursed to take the form of a candlestick, who said the Dark One had transformed him. He gave us the information we needed to resurrect my father, but it was a trap.”_

_“A trap? Set by whom?”_

_“The Wicked Witch,” Neal stated bitterly. “Fortunately, Belle figured it out just in time. Turns out it takes an exchange - a life for a life.”_

_“If a sacrifice is required then how-”_

_“The witch showed up after the candlestick man confessed. She forced one her minions, a man she referred to as wizard, to resurrect my father._ _Belle and I tried to stop her from getting ahold of the dagger, but…”_

_Hook ground his teeth together and leaned in towards Bae, his hook slamming loudly against the wood of the table top separating them. “Am I to understand, that not only did you bring back the bloody Dark One, you allowed him to fall into the hands of this land’s newest villain?”_

_“Hey!” Bae blustered in offense. “I’m trying to get back to my family. What exactly have you been doing this past year, huh?” He threw up a hand to wave off Hook’s words before continuing, “Nevermind. You’re a pirate. I don’t need the details.”_

_“A pirate who you’ve sought out for help,” Hook commented with an air of smug unaffectedness, not wishing the man across from him to know how much his words and assumptions stung. “Which begs the question… help with what?”_

_Bae cast another wary look around before leaning forward, a fragment of parchment making its way across the expanse of the table. “I got this,” Bae whispered. “It’s from my father. He says a new curse is coming. Once it’s cast, travel between worlds will be possible again, which means-”_

_“Emma,” Hook exhaled reverently before his eyes snapped up to meet Bae’s as the man’s narrowed into a hardened glare. Clearing his throat, Hook schooled his features and lifted his tankard towards his lips, stating, “You’ll be able to get to Emma,” before taking a large swallow of ale._

_“Only if I can manage to not get caught up in the curse myself,” Bae replied. “That’s why I need the_ Jolly Roger _. She’s the best chance I have of outrunning this curse.”_

_“And you expect me to just hand her over to you?” Hook scoffed incredulously._

_“To get me back to my family? Yes. Don’t you think you owe me at least that much?”_

_Hook dropped his gaze from Bae’s. He did owe him that, he supposed. “Aye,” he agreed heavily. “Which is why the only way you’ll be taking the_ Roger _is with me at the helm.” Hook brought his head back up and gave Bae an earnest look. “She_ and I _are your best chance of out running this curse, and you bloody well know it.”_

_“Awfully sure of yourself,” Bae grumbled._

_“Well, I am a hell of a captain.”_

After ditching his crew, they managed to escape to an area beyond the curse’s purview. As luck would have it, among those taking refuge in the untouched port, was none other than the giant he and Emma had encountered atop the beanstalk. The one Cora had miniaturized for them to bring back to Storybrooke; a state he’d been able to replicate with the use of a special mushroom after being returned to the Enchanted Forest. It had taken some convincing of their motives, but eventually he and Neal were able to procure a bean from the shrunken giant. Their joint focus on finding Emma as they traveled through the portal had landed them off the coast of New York. Within a few short hours, Neal had determined Swan’s address and they’d agreed to go to her apartment together in the morning. An agreement Neal had gone back on, going after Emma on his own and throwing their whole plan out the window.

Fortunately, a pirate is never without a list of contingencies for when plans go awry.

~/~

“Emma. Your four-thirty is here,” the receptionist announced over the receiver of the office phone.

“Thanks. I’ll be right out.”

Emma stood and stretched out the kinks from her shoulders. She’d gladly take the cramped quarters of her bug during a stakeout over being hunched at her desk doing paperwork for hours on end, but the backlog had gotten out of hand… again. A new case would be a welcomed relief to the carpal tunnel setting into her wrists, and a welcomed distraction to the dread that had been churning in her stomach ever since Neal had shown up at her doorstep four days ago.

 _A welcomed distraction, indeed_ , Emma mused after exiting her office and seeing who she could only assume was her four-thirty appointment sitting in the waiting room. Dark hair, leather jacket, slightly broody with an air of intrigue and trouble, the man was everything Emma usually found appealing, but knew she shouldn’t. Good thing she never mixed business with pleasure, that would help diffuse her natural attraction to…

“Mr. Jones?” she inquired with a tone of professionalism, gaining the man’s attention from the magazine he’d been idly thumbing through. Her breath caught at the vivid hue of his blue eyes, and the quick flash of something that left her feeling both restless and at perfect ease before it sank back into the depths of his stare.

“Please,” he said as he stood and made his way to her, offering his hand. “Call me Killian.”

Emma took his proffered hand and noted that they seemed to swallow simultaneously from the contact. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one having to tamp down feelings of attraction in order to stay professional. She wouldn’t deny that thought made her preen just a tiny bit. On the inside, of course. Outside, she was hard as nails Emma Swan, bail bondsperson and fledgling private investigator.

“Right this way, Killian.” After releasing his hand, and attempting to ignore the raised flesh still rippling up her arm, she led them back to her office and invited him to have a seat as she closed the door. “So, what can I help you with today?”

“I need some assistance in tracking down an old business partner of mine,” he began in an accented tone that did absolutely nothing to curb his appeal.

“Name?”

“Greg Mendell.”

“When was the last time you had any contact with him?” Emma asked as she began to make notes.

“About a year ago.”

“A year?” Emma’s head snapped up. That would make things a bit more challenging.

“Aye. We didn’t part in the most… _amicable_ of ways.”

Emma sat her pen down and began to assess the man before her. At first glance, he was the epitome of calm, with the way he sat nonchalantly in his seat. One hand rested in his lap while he toyed with his rings on the other in a casual manner. His expression was cool and collected, charming even, but Emma could sense a tension in the set of his shoulders and in the shadows that flickered past his liner rimmed eyes. Mr. Jones might want to her to believe he was perfectly at ease with the reason he was there today, but Emma knew there was something more going on than met the eye.

“What was the nature of your business together?”

Jones shifted in his seat and took a beat before answering, as if he were weighing his words before speaking them. “Our mutual interests aligned in such a way that we formed an… understanding. An agreement of reciprocity. I help him achieve his end goal, and he would help me achieve mine.”

“And what end goals would that be?”

“Striking a blow to our competitors.”

So far nothing he’d said had registered on her internal lie detector, her super power, but he was being awfully vague. “You said things didn’t end well between the two of you?”

“I held up my end of the bargain, but realized too late the means by which he intended to uphold his. One that would have left considerable collateral damage in its wake.”

“So, why are you looking for him now? After all this time?”

Jones swallowed heavily and something equally weighty settled in his forget-me-not eyes, sending a warm current through her belly. “I believe locating him will return something quite valuable to me.”

“You think he has something that belongs to you?”

A small smile stretched over his lips and his gaze dropped to his fingers, still toying with the rings on his hand. “It doesn’t belong to me,” he stated with a tone of melancholy. “Though I wish it did.” His eyes met hers once more and Emma felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked from her office. “My goal is to return it to its rightful place, and I need your help to do that.”

Emma wet her lips, the way his eyes followed the action did not escape her attention. “Why me? Why not go to the police?”

“I, uh…” He reached up and scratched behind his ear. “My actions weren’t exactly above board during our brief partnership,” he confessed. “I’d rather not involve the authorities if we can avoid it.”

“And what happens when I find Mr. Mendell?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“I mean,” she leaned back in her chair, hands laced together as she fixed him with a serious stare, ignoring the way her heart skipped at the slip of his endearment. “I’m going to need some assurances you aren’t planning to mete out your own brand of justice when we find Mr. Mendell.”

A smirk played at his lips and his brow twitched in a cheeky fashion. “What sort of man do you take me for, Swan?”

“The kind that holds a grudge and would go to great lengths for revenge.” Emma wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but they certainly felt honest as they passed her lips.

A look of surprise flashed in Killian’s eyes and was quickly replaced with a demeanor of regret. “You’re not wrong there, love,” he muttered softly. “But revenge is not something I’m seeking. Not any longer. I only wish to make things right, and as proof of that… when you find where the man might be you can accompany me.”

“What?”

“Come with me when I go to confront him,” he offered. “Seems to me it would be in both our interests. Should he still be in the area, you can make sure I do nothing _untoward_ , and if he isn’t, it’ll save me time in returning so you can continue your search for him.”

Emma’s superpower told her there was an ulterior motive at play with his suggestion, yet she couldn’t help but think those red flags surrounding Killian Jones weren’t really anything to worry about. The man was a mystery, and definitely trouble, but there was also something about him that resonated with Emma. Almost like she knew him, as if they had some sort of kinship or connection, a feeling of trust and…

Emma shook her head. This man, this Killian Jones, was a stranger. She didn’t know him anymore than he knew her. He was merely a client, and she had a job to do.

“We can discuss that option more after I find this guy,” she stated, picking up her pen and getting back to business.

After several more minutes of collecting any information Jones could give her about Greg Mendell, she walked him back out to the lobby only to be met by her son who was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Mom! Mom! Guess what? There’s a pirate ship at the marina!”

“Henry! Please excuse my son, Mr. J-Killian,” she implored before turning her attention to her son. “Henry, I’m not done working yet.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Henry said sheepishly, offering an apologetic expression to the man beside her. “Sorry, mister.”

“It’s alright, lad,” Killian chuckled. “A pirate ship, you say? Now that is exciting. Though, might I ask what you were doing down at the marina?”

“Henry takes a sailing class there a few times a week,” Emma explained.

Killian’s face lit up with delight. “Does he, indeed?”

“Yeah,” the boy shrugged. “I just got really into it after we moved here from Boston.”

“Well, it’s a fine endeavor - sailing,” Killian affirmed. “One I take part in myself.”

“Really?” Emma asked, incredulous.

“Aye. In fact, I do believe the vessel in question is my own.”

Henry’s eyes widened with exuberance. “You own the pirate ship?”

“Captain Killian Jones, at your service, lad.” Extending his hand, Jones offered her son a warm smile.

“Cool!” Henry took the man’s hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m Henry Swan.” Emma thought she saw a glint of amusement pass over Killian’s features before her son continued to pepper him with questions. “Is it really called the _Jolly Roger_? Like in _Peter Pan_?”

Killian reached up to scratch behind his ear again, and Emma was coming to enjoy that particular tell of his. “She is. I guess you could say, I’ve always related a bit with Captain Hook.” He lifted up his left hand and for the first time Emma realized it wasn’t his actual hand at all but some sort of stiff prosthetic. How had she missed that?

“Wasn’t he the villain?” Henry questioned pointedly.

“Oh, aye. He was a villain, to be sure, but Pan and the crocodile weren’t much better, truth be told.” The hard truth ringing from his words gave Emma pause. She saw Killian’s eyes flick over to her with prudence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I should let you get to your evening with your boy.”

“Right,” Emma replied, shaking off the odd moment. “I’ll be in touch. Talk with you soon, Killian.”

“I look forward to it, love.”

~/~

Killian ducked into a nearby alley and focused on steadying his breathing. A year had done nothing to diminish the yearning in his heart and longing in his soul for the woman he’d sworn to think of each passing day of their separation. Seeing her after all this time, holding her hand in his and hearing her say his name without any recognition sparking within her sea glass eyes had been a whole new level of torment, but one he would willingly endure if it meant getting her to remember.

The pretense he was having to carry out was fraught with complications, and he would have to keep his wits about him if he had any hope of pulling off the ruse. He couldn’t afford for the feelings he had for her to surface now. Feelings he’d desperately tried to bury this long year apart. He was a stranger to her and Henry, and he had to make sure Swan’s suspicions of him remained low.

Still. It didn’t stop him from watching the two of them as they left Emma’s office, Henry animatedly chatting away about his day and how cool it was that her newest client owned a pirate ship. The corners of Killian’s lips turned up at the sight of them, and he couldn’t help but wonder if their previous adventures on the _Jolly Roger_ had been what spurred the boy’s sudden interest in sailing, at least on some subconscious level.

Once Swan and the lad had disappeared in the opposite direction of the docks, Killian headed back to his ship to give Neal a full report. He knew the man wasn’t a fan of this plan. They’d argued over it off and on the past four days as Killian learned all he could about this realm’s _modern age_ , as Neal called it. The man had driven him to the point of such frustration that he’d almost insisted he return to his apartment in the city or walk the plank. They needed one another though, and Killian knew Neal would never trust him with Emma. Knew the man assumed the pirate would go back on his word to back off; a promise he’d given in Storybrooke before Pan’s curse had ripped them back to the Enchanted Forest.

He owed it to Neal to keep that promise. Owed it to Emma and Henry, too.

“Well?” Neal called out from the deck when Killian approached the gangplank. “How did it go?”

“She agreed to take the case,” Killian informed him, nodding towards his cabin so they could continue to speak in private.

“I still don’t understand why you’re having her search for Greg.” Neal slumped down into the desk chair, setting Killian’s teeth on edge as he removed his jacket and hung it on a hook next to the door. “Wouldn’t August make more sense?”

“August has ties to you,” Killian pointed out… again. “He met with you when he was in New York before coming to Storybrooke. A search for him could lead to you and we can’t risk Swan discovering our connection.” He gestured between the two of them then added, “Besides. I’ve never met August. She would have seen through that lie in an instant.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Neal scoffed, once again dismissing Emma’s gift to parse out lies. “But what if her search for Greg leads to Tamara? That’ll lead her back to me, too.”

“It didn’t the first time she looked into the two of them.”

“What?”

Killian smirked at the man. “You really think she didn’t dig up everything she could on Greg when he first came to town, and then did the same thing with Tamara when she arrived? She didn’t find a connection between them then, no reason to think she would now.”

“How do you know she investigated them?”

“Have you met her?” Killian quipped with raised brows.

“Okay, you may have a point there.”

A muffled call from above grabbed both their attentions. “Ahoy! Anyone aboard?”

“Stay here,” Killian told Neal before heading towards the deck. When he arrived it was to find an older gentleman waiting by the gangplank.

“Ahoy there!” the man greeted. “Permission to come aboard?”

Killian waved him up, his brows pulled together and his stance wary as he waited for the stranger to state his purpose.

“Sorry to bother you,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I’m Mr. Walters. I’m the sailing instructor for one of the marina’s classes for kids. I was hoping to speak to you about your ship, mister...”

“Jones. Captain Killian Jones.” He took the man’s proffered hand with a smile then asked, “What about my ship?”

“Some of my students noticed her earlier, and they all went a little nuts… as did I, if I’m being honest. She’s quite something.”

“Aye,” Killian preened with pride. “She’s a marvel.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let me bring my students over for a closer look at her? Maybe give them a tour, answer some questions about her? They’d be supervised of course,” Mr. Walters ensured him. “I’d be there, along with a few parents I can get to chaperone.”

Killian’s mind began to whirl with possibilities. Would this be the class Henry was a part of? Would Emma volunteer to accompany his class on a tour of a pirate ship, knowing it most certainly had to be his? It would give him an opportunity to spend time with her outside of their current business arrangement, and perhaps a little bit of bonding with the lad would warm her up to him. Help alleviate any trepidation she was feeling over her initial read on him.

“Mr. Walters, I’d be delighted to have your charges visit the _Jolly Roger_.”

~/~

_“Hook!” she screamed when the dark spectre slammed him against the trunk of a nearby tree. Pained cries tore from the back of his throat, and glittering currents of magic began to spark around the man’s aura as the shadowy figure began stripping something dark and billowy from Hook’s form, which remained partly obscured by the being tormenting him._

_“Swan! Run!” he shouted. “Just go!”_

_She couldn’t leave him. She had to do something. She couldn’t lose him. Not him. Not when she finally…_

_An effervescence she’d never felt before flared to life within her, allowing her to light the candle in her hand. More screams echoed through the hollow, accompanied by the sound of something being wrenched forcibly asunder, making Emma’s stomach turn with fear. Had she been too late to finally face the truth? Too late to save him?_

Emma bolted upright in bed. Her breathing was labored and a sheen of cold perspiration clung to her skin. Switching on her bedside lamp, she waited out the racing of her pulse until it slowed to a more normal rhythm before getting up to fetch a glass of water.

It had been months since she’d had that nightmare. Some deranged manifestation of the Peter Pan tale her mind had inexplicably cooked up. She’d never even read the book, had only seen the Disney cartoon a handful of times, and couldn’t distinguish one version of the live action films from the other after seeing them with Henry in the theatre over the years. Why she started having nightmares about Neverland, shadows, a dark hollow, and Captain Hook after she and Henry had moved to New York, she’d never know.

Emma gulped down the water, choking back a cough when it rushed over the agitated areas of her parched throat, and went back to bed. Lying awake, the scene played itself over and over again as it always did when it haunted her dreams. No matter how many times she’d had the nightmare she’d never been able to get a good look at Hook, though she somehow knew he was not the waxed mustache and permed version Disney and Hollywood portrayed him to be. Why she was concerned over a literary villain was puzzling, as was the fact that it was more than concern she felt for him in those moments of fear.

A lot more.

Punching her pillow, Emma rolled over and closed her eyes, willing away the images. Slowly they faded into her subconscious, but before disappearing into the oblivion once more, Hook’s pleas rang through her ears one last time.

_“Swan! Run!” he shouted. “Just go!”_

Emma’s eyes sprang open. She recognized that voice.

_No. It couldn’t be._

But it was. The voice in her dream hadn’t changed. It was the same as it had always been. The accent, the lilt, the timbre, the way it sent a shiver of want through her the exact same way it had when he’d introduced himself in the waiting room of her office. Killian Jones. Her newest client.

What the hell was he doing posing as Captain Hook in her dreams?


	2. Chapter 2

A salty breeze whipped against Emma’s face as she made her way down the pier towards the towering vessel currently overrun by overly excited preteens. Her own son among them. When Henry had told her that her newest client had agreed to let his class tour his ship, the enthusiasm practically vibrating off him was too much for Emma to negate in order to beg off being one of the needed chaperones. Not that she wasn’t curious to see Killian Jones’ _pirate ship_ firsthand, it was more the curiosity she held towards the man himself that had her wanting to avoid casual encounters with him. Better to keep things professional. Distant.

Hard to do when the man kept infiltrating her dreams.

Emma shook her head, once again attempting to cast aside the impossible coincidence that the man she knew to be Captain Hook in the nightmare she’d been having since moving to New York shared the same voice with a man who had professed to likening himself to the same literary villain when her son had questioned him about his ship’s moniker. Because they couldn’t really be the same person. She must have projected Killian’s voice into the dream subconsciously, remembering _her_ Hook’s voice differently. In her dream, Hook was always screaming at her to run. When she’d spoken with Killian, he’d never lifted his voice above a respectable volume. So, maybe they weren’t the same at all?

_Of course they aren’t. Stop being ridiculous_ , Emma chided herself, squaring off her shoulders and marching a determined path towards the gangplank. Before her foot could meet the deck, a second chiding came from her scandalized son.

“Mom! You have to have permission to come aboard!”

Emma jerked her foot back and exasperated. “Well, then grant me permission.”

“I can’t,” Henry stated with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not the captain.”

_Right. The captain. That would be-_ -

“Welcome to the _Jolly Roger_ , love.” Seemingly out of nowhere, Killian strutted his way over until he stood no more than a few inches before her, his hand poised to assist her on deck. “You’ve my permission to come aboard.”

Emma took his hand and stepped onto the _Jolly Roger_. The sails snapped above her while wood creaked below her feet as if the majestic ship was welcoming her alongside its captain. A fanciful thought Emma was ready to toss overboard with the other ridiculous musings of her imagination. Musings that were not at all being helped along by the way Killian’s calloused hand felt clasped around hers, or the way his liner rimmed eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners when he smiled and thanked her for coming.

“Um… sure thing.”

“Isn’t she amazing, Mom?” Henry exclaimed beside her, tugging her other hand and pulling her around the deck.

She could sense Killian hovering close by, not wanting to intrude on Henry’s exuberance as he prattled on about gunwales, rigging, and poop decks, but remaining close by to patiently correct or supply information. Emma couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu she had a number of times while touring the grand vessel. The shiver that ran over her when she stood on a certain section of the deck, a heavy weight almost pressing at her chest, momentarily stealing her breath. A surge of determination when she took the helm at Killian’s prompting, feeling certain she’d braced herself against the wheel before with this same man beside her. The melancholy that overtook her in the hold which was quickly replaced with a spike of nerves and a sense of belonging.

The only place on the ship that didn’t give her nostalgic feelings was the Captain’s Quarters. Those feelings were all about the present. Hyper aware that she and Killian were alone for the moment, Henry having run after his friend, Avery, Emma wet her lips and tried to swallow down the swell of nerves rising up from her stomach. It was ludicrous, really. She was a grown ass woman, not one of the twittering girls from Henry’s class she’d seen giggling on deck anytime Killian passed by or gave them any sort of attention.

Not that she blamed them.

“So, tell me,” Emma said, breaking the awkward silence draping the cabin as she perused the meager possessions of its occupant. “How does one, in this day and age, become the owner of a pirate ship?”

Noting a mournful, furtive glance into the corner of the room, Emma wished she could take the question back when he answered, “I acquired her after my brother’s death.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was long ago, love. No need to be sorry.”

“Still. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to lose someone so close to you.”

Killian’s brows pinched together and he gave her something of a guarded expression that looked as though it might be tinged with… was it hope?

“How do you know we were close?”

Shrugging, Emma continued to meander about the cabin. “Just a hunch. You kept his ship, and it’s pretty clear from the amount of pride I’ve seen from you while talking about her that she means the world to you. I think that must be because of the connection she has with your brother.”

He seemed stunned by her assessment. “Quite perceptive, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she said, brushing off his comment with another shrug of her shoulders. “Or you’re just something of an open book.”

The stunned expression intensified briefly before he smothered it with a raised brow. “You’re one to talk,” he said in a muted tone that almost made Emma miss the playful dig.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Crossing her arms over her chest, her own brow jovially cocked in challenge while she attempted to suppress a smile by pursing her lips.

For a moment, Killian looked like he might not rise to the challenge, but then he took a few steps forward, closing the space between them and causing Emma to drop her arms back to her sides. His eyes never wavered from hers, flicking back and forth as he softly imparted, “Perhaps the reason you know my brother and I were close is because you recognize the depth of that loss. That my pain is a reflection of your own. When my brother died, I didn’t just lose a sibling. I lost the last member of my family. It was the final abandonment I experienced from the people who are supposed to never leave you. I was left alone. Orphaned... Just as you were.”

“How…?” Emma felt the last remnants of breath leave her lungs as she tried to formulate her question. Killian smiled down at her with understanding, no pity evident in his forget-me-not eyes as he brushed a section of her hair off her shoulder.

“Like I said,” he murmured. “Open book.”

Before Emma could respond, a trampling of thuds came rushing down the hallway.

“Mr. Jones! Is it true you usually have a hook for a hand?”

“Avery!” Mr. Walters admonished from the corridor, entering the room a moment later. “I apologize, Mr. Jones.”

“No need,” Killian waved off, moving towards his desk and opening a drawer. “Curiosity is a natural state for youngsters. I was remiss in stowing this before the tour began, and it seems some of them caught a glimpse of it earlier.”

Emma’s heart nearly stopped when he produced a metal hook from the confines of his desk. With practiced ease, he twisted the stiff prosthetic, removing the wooden hand from its brace, and clicked the hook into its place.

“It's much more utilitarian for the toil the ship requires, but it can make others ill at ease. Hence, why I wear the false hand whilst in public.”

“Seems kinda old fashioned,” Avery stated.

“Aye, well,” Killian reached up and scratched at the back of his ear, clearly weighing his words. “I didn’t have access to modern prosthetics when I lost my hand. I’ve adapted to the brace and functionality of my hook well enough that I have no desire to change it.”

“How did you lose it?” another boy asked.

Mr. Walters opened his mouth with a reprimand at the ready, but Killian cut him off. “That, lad, is a tale best left for another day.”

“Absolutely,” Mr. Walters agreed. “It’s about time to head over to the maritime exhibit anyway. Let’s get out of Mr. Jones’ way so he can do whatever he needs to before he joins us. You are still planning on coming to the exhibit, aren’t you, Mr. Jones?”

“I’d be delighted,” Killian replied.

The tension Emma had seen tighten in his shoulders while he talked about his hand melted away as the kids filed out of the cabin. Her own tensity, however, sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the hook since the moment he’d pulled it from the drawer. It was as if the compartment contained some sort of a portal into her dreams where he’d plucked the namesake of a villain off her dream Hook’s wrist before snapping it onto his own.

They were identical. The hook. The brace. The voice. All identical.

“Swan?” Killian coaxed her back to reality, a look of concern pulling at his features. “You alright, love?”

“I--” She jumped when her phone chimed, then gave him a look of apology before reaching into her back pocket. “Damn,” she cursed, reading the text she’d just received.

“What’s the matter?” Henry’s voice startled her, she hadn’t realized he’d remained behind when the other kids left the room.

“Mrs. Q is ill. She can’t watch you tonight.”

“Mom,” Henry whined. “I’m twelve. I don’t need a sitter. I can look after myself.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this, kid. I’m gonna be out late on that stake out, and I’ll feel better knowing there’s someone with you.”

Who was she going to find with such late notice, though?

“I’d be happy to keep an eye on the lad for you,” Killian offered.

Henry’s face lit up. “That would be cool! I wouldn’t mind hanging out with Killian.”

Emma chewed her lip as she considered the man’s offer. She’d always been particular with who she allowed to watch over Henry, and she’d only just met Killian Jones. Still, she couldn’t shake the bone deep certainty that she could trust him, and with Neal out in the city somewhere she really didn’t like the idea of Henry being left on his own.

Perhaps sensing her vacillation, Killian laid out suggestions for her consideration. “I’m going with Henry’s class to the Maritime Museum. Mr. Walters extended the invitation as thanks for allowing the class to explore the _Roger_. Once done, I can see to it Henry has dinner, then we can come here for you to pick him up when you’ve finished your stake out, or I can wait with him at your place until you return home. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

The pleading look from Henry as he practically bounced on the balls of his feet sealed it for her.

“Okay,” she sighed, bracing herself against the tight hug her son launched at her.

“Yes!” Henry cheered. “I can’t wait to tell Avery. He’s gonna be so jealous.”

Henry scampered off and Emma’s heart warmed at Killian’s smile beaming after him. She really hoped she wasn’t wrong about him.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing onto his forearm to turn his attention back to her. “There’s something you need to know.”

“What’s that, love?”

Once again, those intense blue eyes were solely trained on her. It was equal parts unnerving and invigorating.

Taking a deep breath, Emma began to share the thing that had kept her up for more nights than she’d care to admit to. “So, a few days ago, Henry’s birth father, who he’s never met and wasn’t even supposed to know that Henry existed, showed up on my doorstep.”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he wet his lips to respond. “And you are concerned for your boy’s safety.”

“I don’t think Neal would do anything to hurt Henry, but I--”

“I assure you,” Killian interrupted. “Nothing will happen to the boy while he’s in my charge.”

Releasing a long breath, Emma gave him an appreciative smile. “Thanks.” The spooling charge she’d felt in his cabin when they first entered hung heavy once more in the atmosphere around them. Emma could feel the energy prickling along her skin, her whole body attuned to Killian’s proximity as the cabin suddenly felt much smaller, more intimate, than it had a moment ago.

The sensible part of her brain, the part that told her to keep a level head when it came to men, ever since Neal betrayed her so devastatingly, screamed at her to take a step back. Literally and figuratively. She didn’t have to, though. Whatever spell had come over them, Killian seemed to snap himself out of it first.

“We should go,” he said in a strained whisper. “Mr. Walters and the children will no doubt be waiting on me.”

“Right,” Emma replied, making her way past him towards the door while he exchanged the attachment on his brace. “I’ll text you later to check in about Henry. Take him back to my place when you're done with the museum and dinner. He has a key.”

“As you wish.”

~/~

Killian turned his flask over in his hands. Now that the lad was sound asleep, Killian was tempted to take a fortifying pull from it to help soothe the tension he’d been carrying all day. It probably wouldn’t do to have Swan arrive home to find the scent of alcohol on his breath, though.

Reaching over to where his jacket lay draped over the back of the couch, Killian returned the flask to the inner pocket then ran his hand down his face, letting go a deep sigh. The stress of the day hadn’t been all bad. He’d enjoyed having Henry’s class tour the _Jolly Roger_ , and as precarious as interactions with Emma were at the moment, he’d never refuse the opportunity to be with her. Even if her lack of memory of him cut to the very marrow of his bones.

Her lack of memory tempered with the undercurrent of mutual attraction that had been present in their association ever since she’d tied his lying arse to that tree at knife point made their current affiliation all the more exasperating for him. His promise to Bae when they were still in Storybrooke burned in his gut like a hot coal of guilt, to say nothing of how his vow to Emma whilst they were still in Neverland wrenched around his heart as he used the knowledge of their history to ingratiate himself into her and Henry’s life.

Though, it hadn’t kept him from thoroughly enjoying the lad’s company all afternoon and evening. Still a little spitfire, it had been a joy for Killian to watch Henry with his peers at the museum, to see the excitement in his soulful brown eyes as he soaked up the knowledge the exhibits, and Killian himself, presented to him. Eyes that were the spitting image of his father’s, calling up memories of Bae as a boy when the same elation spilled from his brown depths during those early days in Neverland… before rejection and betrayal caused Killian to commit one of his biggest sins; a regret he carried to this day.

Other than his own internal castigation, the only mar to the afternoon had been spying Neal at the museum, watching Henry from afar. The man was none too pleased with Killian’s insistence that he leave when he’d gotten a chance to step away from the group and confront his cohort. He couldn’t even imagine the pain Neal had to be experiencing, being so close to his son yet unable to reveal himself to him. To watch another man, especially the pirate who had already taken so much from him, enjoy the pleasure of the boy’s company, creating a bond that should belong to him. Killian didn’t begrudge Neal his contemptuous glares and muttered slights as he walked away, but it wasn’t as though the ruse he was employing was any easier on him either.

The jingle of keys against the lock in the front door resonated through the silent dwelling, prompting Killian off the couch to greet Swan as she made her way into the apartment.

“Hey,” she called out in a whisper, depositing her bag and keys on the counter before proceeding to remove her boots. “Everything go okay?”

“Aye,” Killian replied softly, matching her tone and volume, both of them cognizant of the slumbering boy in the next room. “You’ve a fine lad there, Swan. We had a grand time.”

Tucking her hair behind her ear she took a few tentative steps forward, ones he matched, finding himself before her as they hovered in the dining area.

“I really appreciate you looking after him. There were no problems? No one tried to--”

“No one approached Henry,” Killian assured her, weighing his words with practiced ease to ensure everything he said to her was technically the truth. “He was never in any danger.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed and she smiled up at him with gratitude, causing his heart to skip and that guilt to begin churning in his gut once more.

“Well, it’s late. I should leave you to get some rest.” He turned to collect his jacket, throwing it over his arm before he made his way for the door.

Emma halted him, having moved back to her bag to rummage inside it. “Let me at least give you something for your troubles.”

“That isn’t necessary, love.” He waved her off. “Your boy is no trouble at all.”

Pursing her lips together, she seemed reluctant to let him leave. A summation that proved accurate when she asked, “Would you stay and have a drink with me at least?” Procuring a bottle and two glasses from the cupboard behind her, she left him little opportunity to decline.

Not that he was truly inclined to refuse her, good form coming out on the losing end of its battle against his instincts as a scoundrel. Ever the pirate, regardless of how the past year had tried to prove otherwise. He knew he should leave, head back to the _Roger_ where Neal would no doubt be waiting for him, demanding a full report of his time with Henry and Emma. Leave the temptation the woman before him posed; a temptation that drew him in as she poured the dark spirit into the tumblers then offered him one with a raised brow of hopeful anticipation.

“If the lady insists,” he murmured, taking the glass from her and noting the flick of her eyes to the bright ink splashed across his exposed forearm where he’d failed to unroll his sleeves when she came home.

Her gaze jumped back up to his before dropping down to the table top as she lowered herself into the dining chair across from the one he was pulling out to occupy for himself. Each took a long sip, and Killian hummed appreciatively at the spicy wash of the familiar libation against his tongue. Placing his glass back onto the table, his rings tapped out a tinkling melody into the oppressive silence that now hung between them as Killian took in Swan’s hesitant countenance with a knowing look.

“It’s alright, love. You can ask me about it.”

Emma’s eyes finally met his. She took another sip of the dark rum before licking her lips and innocently shrugging. “Ask about what?”

“My tattoo,” he stated, picking up his glass and swirling its contents while giving her a pointed look.

Attention back on the glass now resting on the table, her hands wrapped around it with her thumbs skimming over the rim, she took a moment before quietly asking, “Who’s Milah?”

“Someone from long ago,” he answered. The memory of this moment playing out atop a beanstalk invaded his mind and brought out the contrast of the undercurrent present during both conversations; similar in scope, but vastly different in their scale of emotion.

“Where is she?”

“She’s gone. Passed on, hopefully to a better place.”

Emma winced and glanced at him apologetically before muttering, “I’m not a very good conversationalist, am I? Earlier, it was about your brother, now,” she gestured vaguely in the direction of his arm, “this.”

“I don’t mind talking about them,” Killian assured her. “Like Liam, I lost Milah a long time ago. I’ve… I’ve made my peace with it.” The truth of those words released a moment of quiet resignation within him. A part of him would always love Milah, would always wish for her murderer to be held accountable for his actions, but the account he sought now was justice, not vengeance. He’d put that desire behind him when he’d chosen to turn his ship around and be a part of something. Something that might make him a man of honor once more.

“But the wound is still fresh, huh?”

Killian cocked his head to the side, wondering if she were still referring to his pain, or her own. Contemplating for the first time how seeing Neal after all these years (as far as she was concerned) had affected her. “Speaking from experience?”

Emma responded with another swallow of rum, the burn of it pulling at her features. She let go a heavy sigh and leaned back into her chair, arms crossing over her chest in a protective gesture, giving away the vulnerability she was about to share.

“Henry’s father,” she answered with a nod.

Killian swallowed and shifted in his seat. “You don’t have to tell me, Swan,” he offered. “I gather his reappearance back in your life has left you rather unsettled, though. I’m happy to listen if you need to talk about it.”

A moment passed, the choice she was struggling with evident in her expression. Killian was sure she’d take the out he offered her and lifted his drink with the intent of polishing it off so he could bid her goodnight. The rum hadn’t made it past his lips before she began to speak, causing him to set the glass down in order to offer his full attention.

“I met him when I was really young. Young and naive,” she huffed with a shake of her head, dropping her arms and leaning forward to wrap her hands around her glass again. “We were both street kids, but I was the only one of us still technically a minor. We pulled odd jobs, petty theft stuff, and looked out for each other. When things got... intimate between us, I thought…”

Her words died away. Killian had to fight to keep his expression from becoming thunderous when she continued on, relaying all that had occurred, the lengths to which Bae had gone to run away from even the possibility of his father finding him - not that Emma knew of his reasons for abandoning her.

“... I was sitting there, in my cell, with this pregnancy test in my hand, wondering what the hell I was going to do when one of the guards brought a package that had arrived for me.” She stood and grabbed her keys from where she’d tossed them on the counter earlier. Singling one of them out, she returned to her seat then held it out for Killian to see. “This was inside. The key to the bug I stole when we first met. The one he’d already stolen.” A scoff puffed from her chest as she flipped the key over her fingers. “Clearing the title and leaving me the car was the best thing he ever did for me… besides Henry,” she finished almost on a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Swan.”

Emma shrugged and set her keys down on the table before lifting her tumbler up to take another drink. “Nothing to be sorry about,” she stated in the tone she used to deflect her emotions. “Like you said, it was a long time ago.”

“Aye. But as you implied earlier, wounds that are made when we’re young tend to linger.” Killian considered his next question carefully, curious as to what memories Regina might have implanted to fill in the years that Emma believed she’d spent with her son. “Has there ever been someone you were willing to risk such hurt for since Neal?”

Emma shook her head and cast her eyes towards Henry’s closed door. “No. It’s just been Henry and me. I don’t need anyone else.” Her attention fell to him once more, her lip caught between her teeth before she reciprocated the question. “What about you? Has there been anyone else you’ve wanted to take that leap with since Milah?”

Killian’s pulse ticked up. “No. no one,” he lied, knowing the truth would open a topic he’d be unable to discuss without giving away too much. Swan’s brows pulled together, and he hoped she wouldn’t call him out for the falsehood, that she’d see it as his way of setting a boundary and simply accept it.

“Well,” she started, lifting her glass up and presenting it towards him with a sarcastic quip, “here’s to heartbreak.”

Killian clinked his glass against hers and they both polished off the remainder of their drinks.

“I should go,” he said, getting up from his chair and swinging his jacket over his shoulders. Emma walked him to the door, thanking him again for watching Henry. Killian was over the threshold when he turned to her before she could close the door. “Swan,” he murmured softly, “Don’t begrudge heartbreak, love. It’s something to be thankful for.”

“I should be thankful for having my heart broken?” she replied incredulously.

“If it can be broken,” he reached out and brushed a piece of hair off her face, causing her breath to visibly hitch, “it means it still works.”

Her lips parted as if she meant to respond, but no words emerged. Killian smiled down at her with a soft pull at his lips and bid her goodnight, leaving her to mull over his words.

~/~

“Bugger off! You think I’m enjoying this?”

“You have Emma and Henry eating out of the palm of your hand, don’t tell me you aren’t relishing that fact.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“Yeah, right.”

Killian’s jaw clenched at Neal’s caustic tone, the muscle above ticking madly from the way he grit his teeth. “I once told Emma I wanted to win her heart without any trickery,” he confessed with a biting edge of his own. “How do you think she’s going to respond once her memories are back, knowing I’ve been playing her all this time?”

“So, you’re going back on your word then?” Neal accused him, raising Killian’s ire.

From the moment he’d stepped back aboard his ship, Neal has been relentless with his indictments of Killian’s true motives in playing the charade of a client, accusing him of using the ruse in order to weasel his way into Emma and Henry’s affections.

“I’ve never hidden my intentions about Emma from you,” Killian reminded him. “I told you, I’m in this for the long haul, but right now it isn’t about pursuing Emma, it’s about getting her and Henry back to Storybrooke.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“We get them back to Storybrooke, restore their memories, and then what?”

Killian scrubbed a hand down his face and let go a deep sigh. “That’s not up to either one of us, mate. Ultimately, that’s up to Emma.”

Neal didn’t seem too satisfied with that answer as he stormed past Killian on his way out of the captain’s cabin, headed back to his own bunk in the crew’s quarters. Killian’s shoulders sagged. He had hoped that returning to this realm, to Emma, to Storybrooke, to that _something_ she had invited him to be a part of, he would be able to fill the void he’d sought to fill for the past year. Be able to reconnect, make amends, and rebuild relationships he’d cast aside in the wake of his grief at being ripped away from the woman he loved.

He’d kept his promise. Not a day had gone by he hadn’t thought of her, but he’d thought of others as well. Others with whom he desperately wanted to start again, to have a second chance, to make things right. Now, he feared that when all was said and done, the very things he’d have to do in order to bring about that outcome for Emma would be the very things to destroy his chance at a happy ending.

Maybe the man he had Swan fruitlessly searching for was right. Villains don’t get happy endings.

But he’d be damned sure Emma got hers.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma desperately clung to the facade she’d had in place since… well, forever, and scoffed at the man decked out in head to toe leather.

_“So, what? Someone tells their secret and they sprout wings?”_

_“I don’t know the particulars, only what I’ve been told.”_

_“How do you know it’ll work?” her father questioned… her father. Prince Charming. Wasn’t that a trip and a half._

_Hook turned and sighed, steeling himself for the literal moment of truth of before him. Emma wanted to tell him it was fine, that he didn’t need to say anything, they’d find another way, because in truth… she was afraid what his honesty might reveal._

_Not the dark deeds and sins he’d committed as a pirate, Emma had heard tales from the denizens of Storybrooke, and could fill in the gaps for herself. He’d been a villain. Villains did bad things. So, none of his conquests would surprise her should they be the confession he chose to unburden himself with._

_No. The issue was that somehow Emma knew those dark deeds wouldn’t be among his deepest darkest secrets. Pirates regaled their exploits as a way of building a reputation, so confessing something that ultimately fed into the villain, pirate, bad boy persona wouldn’t exactly be a secret he’d otherwise withhold. Emma knew this, because they were too alike in this way. Hook’s secret would be one similar to her own. One that exposed a deep vulnerability he wouldn’t want others to see, a revelation that would leave him bare and unguarded. Defenseless and at the mercy of those with whom he shared a shaky alliance, still unsure of the trust they were all having to place in one another._

_When he spoke, Emma was relieved for a moment._ The kiss? Really?

_“It’s what the kiss exposed,” he replied softly. His voice, and the earnestness behind his words made the fine hairs on Emma’s arms stand on end and a fluttering to erupt in her chest. “My secret is… I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love. My Milah. To believe that I could find someone else. That is… until I met you.”_

_All the air in the cave evaporated, the vacuum tightening in Emma’s chest until the ground beneath her feet shook violently. Rocky protrusions knitted themselves together into the makings of a bridge, leading into the dark void. Leading to something Emma did not want to seek out, but knew she had to. Leading to something that had cast a shadow over the vivid blue eyes staring at her, a shadow of resigned acceptance that something precious might be lost to him forever now that the path leading them to find_ that thing _just on the other side of the chasm had been revealed._

_Emma stepped forward to assure him that his admission hadn’t cost him anything, but her words were stopped by another admission, another secret told, another stretch of the craggy crossing ushering her closer to having to make her own confession. Sword drawn and boot planted, Emma turned back to glance at Hook, thankful she didn’t have to bare her soul to him just yet. Her confession was meant for another’s ears, and that secret, though difficult to admit, was one she was finally ready to voice._

_Maybe once they’d found Henry and managed to get away from this island of nightmares, she’d be ready to reciprocate Hook’s bravery. Until then… those mysteries would stay concealed behind her walls._

Emma opened her eyes and sucked in a painful breath. Slowly, she sat up, running her hands through her tangled mess of bed head and exhaled with a shudder.

_What the hell was that about?_

Her alarm blared beside her, jolting her while pulling a curse from her lips. Slamming her hand down to silence it, she took another breath to try and calm her racing pulse.

First a dark hollow and now a cave? What was up with her subconscious lately?

Emma groaned, thinking back on her dream. While she was happy there were no more flying specters, eager to rip people’s shadows from their bodies, the fact that _he_ remained a fixture was… troubling. It wasn’t enough that the man consumed her thoughts when she was awake, now she was _definitely_ projecting him as Captain Hook into her dreams. He may have been dressed in head to toe black leather, with all the trimmings of a pirate, and referenced by her dreamself as _Hook_ , but he’d definitely been Killian Jones.

Killian Jones, the man who’d sat across from her the night before when they shared their sad tales of heartbreak. Tales she’d also woven into her dream, given his fantasy counterpart had spoken of Milah. His first love. A love he never thought he’d ever be able to move past… until he met her.

No. That was _dream_ him. The real him had…

Lied.

Emma had spotted it immediately. It was the only time he’d ever told her an outright lie since she’d met him. She hadn’t called him on it because of the personal nature of the question he’d reneged on, thinking if the tables were turned, she might not have been willing to answer truthfully either.

Did he lie because he hadn’t wanted to admit that he had met someone he was willing to risk loving again? Because that someone was… her?

Rolling her eyes, Emma groaned again and threw back her covers. _Don’t be ridiculous_ , she chided herself. It was one thing to get lost in the world of fantasy while she dreamt and had no control over her subconscious. It was another to allow these things to permeate her real life. A life that did not include magic, or trips to Neverland, or pirates, or having Prince Charming for a father.

Emma froze with one leg in the jeans she’d been attempting to throw on. She’d never dreamt about her parents before. Not that the man and woman who’d stood at the fuzzy edges of her dream had really been her parents, there was no way she'd ever be able to remember them, given the fact she’d only been hours old when they’d abandoned her. Emma couldn’t remember a single time she’d ever had an actual dream about her parents. She’d fantasized, of course, used her imagination to conjure all sorts of scenarios of who they were and why they had to leave her that way, but never had she actually…

Shaking her head, she forced her other leg into her jeans and finished getting dressed. She’d wasted enough time that morning on things that weren’t real and didn’t matter. Henry, her life with him in New York, her job, this case; those were the things that mattered.

After spending a few minutes pulling herself together in the bathroom, Emma came out to the kitchen and booted up her computer. She’d started a search program the night before and was eager to see if it had found anything of use for her quest in locating Greg Mendell for Killian. After her dream, and the way he kept lingering in her thoughts both waking and sleeping, Emma was eager to have this case closed. Whether it was so Jones could move on from her life completely, or so she wouldn’t have to worry about mixing business with pleasure should she wish to turn drinks into dinner, she hadn’t really decided yet.

Yeah, that was a lie.

Truth was, she’d fallen asleep last night staring into her closet. Mindlessly considering which outfit she’d wear on their first date while hope stirred in her chest that the program would give her the break she needed so she could ask Killian out after he returned from concluding his business with Greg Mendell. Silently wondering if he was the one with whom she should take that risk he’d spoken of, she’d fallen asleep with a half formed determination that must have had a hand in the manifestations she’d dreamed of during the night.

Coffee in hand, Emma scrolled through the findings that had compiled over night. What she found had her yelling at Henry to get up and get dressed while she was already placing a call on her cell.

“Hey, Killian. Sorry to bother you so early, but, um… I need a favor.”

~/~

“So, as I mentioned on the phone, I got a lead on Greg, but have to spend some time in New Jersey chasing it down. Henry has plans to hang out with Avery later, but I need someone to look after him until Avery’s parents can come pick him up.”

“I already told you it isn’t a bother, Swan.” Killian reassured her while Henry trudged up the gangplank past them with a long, drawn out yawn accompanying his sleepy-eyed expression. “Although,” he said, stepping in a bit closer to her with his brows waggling in a teasing manner, “If you wanted to get close to me, all you had to do was ask. No need to use the boy as an excuse.”

He knew he should try harder to suppress these urges to flirt with her, but he’d missed how easily he seemed to be able to get under Emma’s skin. Fond memories of eyerolls, playful banter, and amused huffs had plagued him that long year and he couldn’t help but revel in them now.

“Why am I not surprised you’re making this about you.”

“Well, it is my case that has put you in this predicament, and when I get a call from a lady in distress, I’m on the spot.”

“I am not distressed. I just need a sitter.”

“I’m too old for a sitter,” Henry grumbled… again, startling them apart from where they’d swayed into each other’s personal space.

“Aye, well,” Killian said, scratching at the flare of awkwardness behind his ear. “There won’t be much in the way of sitting, lad. Lots to be done to keep the _Roger_ ship shape, and I’ll need all hands at the ready. Go stow your things below and we can get started after a spot of breakfast.”

Hearing that he had a morning of all things pirate ship waiting for him put a little more pep in Henry’s step as he descended into the hatch.

“Speaking of,” Emma said, pulling a brown paper sack from her bag. “I brought bagels for you two to share.”

Unfamiliar with what exactly a bagel was, Killian peered into the sack and was pleasantly overwhelmed by the scent of bread. “Thank you, love. I’m sure the lad and I will enjoy these.” Tucking the bag beneath his arm, he confirmed, “Avery and his parents will be by for Henry this afternoon?”

“Yeah. I told them that they could get him at the marina when they’re ready. They’ll call his phone to let him know they’re on the way.”

“Shall I call you on the talking phone to check in after they’ve done so?”

Emma cocked her head and pulled a face, a laugh bubbling up from her chest. “Is that different from a regular phone?”

Heat crept up Killian’s neck. “Right. Of course.” There were still things about this realm Killian was trying to get used to: social customs, terminology, the marvels of technology. It was only a matter of time before he slipped up, he supposed. He just hoped Swan would overlook it as some sort of gaffe due to the early hour.

A smile still spread across her lips, she said “Yeah, you can call me afterward. Let me know how everything went. I might have an update for you about Greg’s whereabouts by then.”

“Sounds grand, love,” he replied with a blush still tinting his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Emma called out a good-bye to Henry then turned to leave, offering Killian another smile and quick wave before she made her way off the ship. Killian released a tight breath and cursed himself under it. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on with the charade, so he sent up a quick prayer to whatever god this realm professed allegiance to that she would have a break in her case soon. One that would have them journeying back to Storybrooke sooner rather than later.

After watching Emma drive off, Killian was about to search for his charge when a figure making its way up the dock caught his attention. Frustration flared within his chest as he made his way to head Neal off, his teeth clenched tightly and making the muscle above his jaw flicker like mad.

“What the devil are you doing back here?”

“I’m done being side lined so you can cozy up to _my_ family,” Neal replied on a whispering hiss. “Henry doesn’t remember who I really am, so as long as Emma doesn’t see me, I don’t see any reason why I can’t--”

“How about the fact Emma will no longer trust me if I allow a strange man to hang around her son without her leave?”

“Then text her and ask if she’s okay with your first mate being on board while you watch Henry.”

Killian blanched, and an incredulous brow cocked up his forehead. “My first mate?”

“I didn’t know you had a first mate.” Henry’s voice chimed from above them, snapping the men’s attention his way.

Neal’s face lit up with a wide smile. “You don’t really think Captain Ho-- _Jones_ could sail this thing on his own, now do you?” Brushing past Killian with a harder than necessary shove, Neal approached Henry with an outstretched hand. “You must be Henry.” The lad took Neal’s proffered hand and shook it enthusiastically. “I’m Killian’s first mate. You can call me Mr. Baelfire.”

~/~

Neal watched his son scamper after Hook, once again preferring the pirate’s company to his own. His fist clenched before he gathered up the crate he’d been charged by _his captain_ to retrieve so Henry might spend time learning how to tie various knots on the lengths of rope within. Hook’s deep chuckle pulled Neal’s attention towards the helm once again and the look on Henry’s face made his heart stutter painfully in his chest. A look of unadulterated awe. A look he’d once given Neal, on this very ship, when they’d sailed from New York after Emma had found him, after the truth had been revealed and father and son had been reunited.

And he didn’t mean himself and Rumplestiltskin.

He should be the one Henry was following around with eager questions, the one whose every word Henry was hanging onto. He should be the one eliciting those toothy grins and putting that twinkle in his eyes. _My eyes_ , Neal groused under his breath.

“Mr. Baelfire,” Hook called out as he approached with Henry in tow. “Would you be good enough to begin Henry’s knot tying lesson? I have a few things that need my attention below deck.” Placing his hand on Henry’s shoulder, which set Neal’s teeth on edge, Hook looked down at Henry whose head was already craning up towards his. “You don’t mind, do you lad?”

“Oh, um…” Henry stammered. “I guess not.”

Hook squeezed Henry’s shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. “There’s a good lad,” he said before turning and heading below, leaving Neal alone with Henry for the first time since… When _had_ he last been alone with his son?

“So,” Henry began, plopping down on one of the crates next to Neal. “What knot are we starting with?” Picking up one of the rope pieces, Henry began wrapping and looping the ends until he managed to create one of the more complicated knots Neal had planned to teach him before holding it up with a smug tilt to his mouth.

“How did you--”

“Sailing class,” the boy cheeked. A tint of pink crept over his cheeks and he quickly averted his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner, but when Killian offered to teach me I didn’t want to--”

“Hey,” Neal interrupted, suppressing the urge to wrap his arm around his son. “It’s okay, kid. I get it.”

The truth of those words crashed over Neal in that moment. He did get it. Completely understood the infatuation Henry seemed to have with the larger than life pirate captain, because he’d had it too, once upon a time. A time when he’d been adrift, literally, and Hook had plucked him from the despair of losing yet another family. It had been _his_ toothy grins and wide-eyed expressions of hero worship following the pirate around from stem to stern, seeking his approval and affection as a child would from one he hoped could fill a void left vacant.

A void Henry believed had been left vacant since his mother had been abandoned in jail by the man he thought didn’t even know had fathered him.

“How long have you been crewing for Killian?” Henry asked, his attention back on the lengths of rope as he twisted the fibers to his bidding.

“Oh, Hook and I go way back,” Neal answered, unaware of the slip.

“Hook?”

Neal froze. _Fuck!_

“Oh! Do you call him that because of his hook attachment?”

Neal’s eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“Yeah, he showed it to us during the tour. Said it was easier to work on the ship with it, but doesn’t like to wear it in public because it can make people uneasy.”

Neal laughed at that. Worry over making people feel uneasy wasn’t exactly something he’d attribute to the infamous pirate captain.

“Wow!” Henry breathed, noticing the knot Neal had just finished tying; one of the more complicated knots that many sailors had trouble mastering. “Who taught you how to do that one?”

Twirling the intricate braid between his fingers, Neal was swept away in a moment of nostalgia. The memory of endless nights on deck at Hook’s side as he broke the instructions down step-by-step until Neal had conquered it. He’d never forget the look of pride in the pirate’s eyes the first time he’d managed to do it all on his own.

Once again, Neal didn’t think through his response before uttering, “Hook taught me how when I was a boy.”

“Wait…” Henry said, his head tilted in confusion. “Aren’t you two the same age?”

That cold wash of dread doused itself over Neal’s head once more. _How the hell has Hook been able to keep this up for so long?_

“Um… yeah, well. You see, um.” _For Christ’s sake Neal, get it together._ “We might be the same age, but Hook’s at sea all his life. By the time we met, he was already an expert in sailing.”

Henry scooted a little closer, the ropes and knots forgotten as his curiosity sparked. “How did you two meet?”

Knowing he’d have to tread carefully with his words from now on, Neal thought through his answer before replying.

“Hook found me during one of the lowest points in my life,” Neal began cautiously, desperate to connect with his son, but wary of revealing anything that might make Emma suspicious should Henry recount this conversation to her later. “I’d been abandoned by my father and had lost the only other family I’d grown close to. I think he thought I’d find some solace on the sea. Like he had after his father had walked out on him.”

“You and Killian… were abandoned by your fathers?” Henry asked in a quiet whisper that stabbed and twisted in Neal’s gut.

“Yeah, Buddy,” Neal replied. “Mine left me when I wasn’t much older than you. Killian was even younger.” Henry’s eyes lifted to meet Neal’s and the sorrow within had tears stinging at their corners before Neal could blink them away.

“I’ve never met my dad,” Henry confessed. Neal forced himself to bite back the rebuke on his tongue. “Mom says he doesn’t even know I exist and doesn’t deserve to know, but…”

“But what?” Neal’s voice was tight with the strain of holding it together, restraining the hope tightening in his chest.

“I’d still like the chance to meet him someday.”

Neal released a slow breath. “Maybe one day you will… when you’re older.”

Henry smiled, and a conspiratorial glint twinkled in his eye that gave Neal pause. “Maybe even sooner.”

Neal blanched, and was about to ask what Henry meant by that when the boy's cell phone rang. “Oh! I bet that’s Avery!”

Scampering off the crate, he answered the phone while rushing to the ship's side to see if he could locate Avery’s parent’s car in the marina parking lot. After tracking his son’s movements, Neal’s gaze snapped back to the silhouette lurking in the shadows of the corridor leading to the captain’s quarters. Shoulder propped against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, Hook held Neals’ gaze as a moment of understanding passed between them through the pirate’s soft expression.

There hadn’t been anything below deck that had needed Hook’s attention. He’d excused himself in order to give Neal some time with his son.

A wave of Henry’s arm as he signalled his friend caught both men’s attention, and prompted Hook to emerge from his vantage point.

“Avery’s here,” Henry announced, rushing past Hook on his way to collect his things. The grin that broke across Hook’s face as he watched Henry enter his cabin without leave was reminiscent of the way he used to smirk at another boy who would flout the ship’s rules. “Thanks, Killian!” Henry said before wrapping his arms around the pirate’s waist. Hook’s head snapped over to Neal with a startled, apologetic look in his eyes.

Neal knew the expression the pirate saw resting on his features probably shocked him as much as Henry’s impromptu show of affection, but his response only lasted a moment before his posture relaxed so he could reciprocate the hug.

“My pleasure, my boy.”

When Henry let go of Hook, he turned to Neal, who’d already made his way over to the pair.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Baelfire.”

Neal looked down at the hand Henry was politely extending and was surprised to find that petulant feeling he would have expected over not receiving an equitable gesture absent. _Soon_ , he promised himself, shaking the boy’s hand with the hope that it wouldn’t be too much longer before Henry remembered the truth. Remembered exactly who Neal was.

“You too, kid.”

With that, Henry departed, sprinting down the dock towards his awaiting friend while shouting about all the cool things he’d gotten to do. Neal joined in on Hook’s chuckle and the two stood there for a long moment before the pirate’s voice cut into Neal’s thoughts.

“He is so like you.”

Neal glanced over at Hook then flicked his gaze back to the horizon where the pirate’s eyes were also focused.

“He reminds me of another boy I looked after… all those years ago.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Hook sighed and slowly turned towards Neal, a pained expression sat heavily on his brows. “I’m not trying to take them from you, Bae.” Hook’s eyes swam with a pleading sincerity, a desperate appeal to be believed. “Henry is yours, and I would _never_ attempt to come between the two of you.” Another sigh fell heavily from his lungs and his eyes slipped down towards his feet. “As for Emma, I--”

“She’ll make up her own mind when we get her and Henry back to Storybrooke.” Hook’s eyes snapped back up, his mouth slacken in surprise. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be calling her on your talking phone?” Neal razzed. “Let her know Henry’s left with Avery?”

“Aye,” Hook replied, clearing his throat of the emotion Neal could feel clogging his own.

A concerned look pulled at his features after he dialed Emma’s number. “Voicemail,” he said before leaving her a message. He’d just secured the device back in his pocket when a notification chimed from it.

“Sounds like she sent you a text.”

Hook opened the text and the color drained from his face. “Bloody hell.”

“What?”

“It’s Emma. She’s had a break in the case. Wants me to meet her at the address she just sent.”

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“It would be,” Hook said, turning the phone to face Neal so he could read the text for himself. “If the address she sent wasn’t _yours_.”


	4. Chapter 4

Emma paced the floor in Neal’s apartment, her mind running a thousand miles an hour while her heart struggled to beat past the tight ache that had settled in her chest when she’d discovered Killian might have been playing her this whole time. She really didn’t want to believe it, but all the facts pointed to him having run a con on her. The way his answers were always carefully crafted, how he had her look for someone under an alias other investigators might not have dug deep enough to discover, the way he had ingratiated himself into her and Henry’s life, all red flags that should have had her calling the cops rather than texting him to meet her for a confrontation; all because she really hoped she hadn’t been wrong about him.

Plus, she wanted answers.

When he entered the apartment, Emma could tell he was trying to play it cool. She could see the slight tension gripping his shoulders, as well as the sharp look in his eye as he tried to ascertain how much she’d been able to piece together. Both were evidence of his guilt that had Emma’s stomach falling away in despair before her anger surged forward to fill the void.

“Well, Swan? Why have you summoned me here?” he asked, with a false tone of innocence she could hear right through.

“I think you know why,” she accused, unwilling to beat around the bush. “I bet you didn’t expect me to find out Greg real’s name, his connection with a woman named Tamara, and her association with the person who owns this apartment, huh?” She ran a finger through the layer of dust that covered the mantle then flicked the particles away. “Although it looks like Neal hasn’t been here in quite some time.”

“About a year, actually.” At least he wasn’t trying to deny it. Casting his eyes to the side, the muscle in his jaw began to flicker at the same rate Emma’s lids were as she blinked back the sting of tears. “Ever since you came looking for him here in New York when his father enlisted your help.”

_Wait… what?_

“What are you talking about? I never--”

“Aye, Swan. You did,” he insisted with a firm nod. Something in his demeanor shifted as if he had fully committed to a decision before he continued, “You just don’t remember. You were cursed to forget while the rest of us were sent away, back to the Enchanted Forest.” He took a step forward, his eyes wide with an earnest pleading that held Emma rooted to the spot. “Neal and I came back for you, because there is a new curse. Your parents and all of Storybrooke could be in great danger. They need the Savior. They need _you_ , love.”

“My parents? A curse? Do you know what you sound like right now?”

Killian released a resolute sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Like a madman, I’m sure. But it’s true. We were all ripped away from one another, because of Pan’s curse, but this new one has allowed Neal and me to come back for you.”

Something rippled over Emma’s skin, and from the recesses of her mind, notions and points of connection were beginning to form in response to his words, but Emma fought to keep them at bay as she scoffed, “You really expect me to believe that _Neal_ came back for me?”

Killian’s jaw and hand clenched as he acknowledged her point. “I can understand how it would be difficult for you to believe it of him, given your past history, so,” his eyes snapped up to meet hers once more, and the longing she saw there nearly took her breath away, “believe that I would. That I _have…_ on more than one occasion.”

Emma’s lips parted, ready to reply to his ridiculous claims, but no words appeared on her tongue.

“Have I told you a lie?” he asked, and Emma almost rolled her eyes at him. “I know I’ve been vague, and have even skirted a few truths, but I couldn’t risk being found out by your superpower.”

Emma blanched, her brows shooting up in surprise.

“Yeah. I know about that,” he confirmed. “Use it now. See that I’m telling you the truth.”

Emma already knew he was being honest with her. Impossible as his claims were, she had expected her inner lie detective to sound the alarm numerous times, but it lay quiet deep within her. Still…

“Just because you believe something doesn’t make it true,” she clipped. Once again, pushing back against the revelations her mind was desperately attempting to impart to her; things she was not ready to give attention to.

“Maybe, but I know you, Swan. Something about this last year hasn’t felt right to you. You know something’s off.” When she continued to stare dubiously at him, he let out a heavy huff, irritation peppering his words for the first time. “If you aren’t going to believe a word I say then why did you have me meet you here?”

“Because,” she snapped while snatching an object from where it rested on the nearby desk. “Neal has a camera with Henry’s name on it! Why would he have this? What is Neal planning and why are you involved?”

“I already told you, I’m not here because of Neal,” he grit out angrily. “Don’t you see? That’s proof of what I’m telling you. Henry must have left that here last year before you all went back to Storybrooke.” A frenzy of desperation took hold of him, evident by the way he clutched at the strands of hair along his neckline while unburdening himself with things he’d clearly been burying for some time. “ Before you invited me to be a part of something. Before I turned my ship around and then took you all to Neverland to rescue Henry. Before Pan, and our dalliance, and confessions in Echo Cave, and shadows trying to rip Neal and I apart.”

An astonished gasp rushed past Emma’s lips, but he did not notice, allowing her denial to fortify its position amidst the walls she could feel crumbling at his inconceivable declarations.

“Before getting back to Storybrooke and promising Neal I’d back off only to find myself torn away from you for the past year where not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought of you.”

“Good.”

The word came out without forethought, snapping Killian’s focus back onto her with wide astonished eyes that appeared to be glistening with hope born tears.

“What?” he breathed, the word no more than a whisper of vapor that hung precariously between them.

“I mean…,” Emma shook her head and scrunched her brows together, trying to shake off the sense of déjà vu that had come over her. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I do, Swan.” Closing the gap between them, he stepped right into her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck in order to look up into those too blue and earnest eyes. “It’s the last thing you said to me before you drove over that town line. The thing that gave me hope for an entire year, even when I knew you had no memory of me.”

Emma couldn’t fight the protests of her mind any longer. Overcome, flashes of disjointed and incoherent images she’d always attributed to dreams or flights of fancy mixed themselves with the odd sensations she’d experienced numerous times over the past year when her gut told her there was something missing, something more just outside of her comprehension. She stood reeling from the possibility that what Killian was saying might actually be true, voicing her inner conflict without really meaning to.

“If what you say is true, then… I’d have to give up my life here.”

“I know Swan, and I’m sorry about that, truly.” She heard him say, but in a muffled far off manner as if this were all a dream; her stubbornness and denial still not willing to give up the fight despite his assertions. “But it’s not real.”

“But it’s good,” she said, holding back the emotion threatening to choke her words and spill down her cheeks. “I have a Henry and a job I love. I have a purpose here.”

Reaching up, he cupped her face, his thumb lightly brushing over her cheek as he promised, “Storybrooke won’t change that. You’ll still have Henry and a purpose, but you’ll also have your family. Your _whole_ family. And friends, and an entire community of people who… people who love you.”

Emma’s heart skipped and her breath stuttered. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, betraying that he already knew what she’d meant with her question.

“In this… other reality,” Summoning all her courage, Emma asked, “Do _you_ love me?”

Forget-me-not eyes never wavering from hers, he declared on a hushed breath. “I love you in every reality, Swan.”

Tears began to fall from her lashes, a vice like nothing she’d ever felt before clenched itself around her heart, leaving her desperate for breath. When his head turned towards the window at the sound of approaching sirens, reality crashed back down over her.

A bang on the door preceded the warning, “Whoever’s in there, you better get out while you can. I’ve called the police and they’re on their way.” A warning that further cemented Emma’s grasp on facts and not the fantasy she had allowed herself to be pulled into by a silken voice and soft gaze.

She would never be able to thank that nosey neighbor enough. Wasting no time, Emma slipped her cuffs from their holster and snapped them around Killian’s wrist.

“Swan? What are you doing?” he said in an exasperated tone, as if she’d done this to him before.

“Making sure you can’t bother me or my son ever again,” she replied while affixing the other end of the cuffs to the radiator nearby.

“You’re making a mistake,” he protested. “Please, Swan. Just come with me to Storybrooke, then you’ll see I’m telling you the truth. We can leave on the _Jolly Roger_ tonight.”

“Go sailing to a mystery destination with the crazy man? No thank you.”

Emma forced herself to take a step back, then another. Her mind, will, and emotions embroiled in a battle she couldn’t even begin to throw herself into until she had some distance from the man every fiber of her being was screaming at her to run towards and not from. When she turned and rushed for the door, her hand having taken hold of the knob, Killian’s voice, soaked with despair and pleading, cut through the chaos.

“Emma, please. I beg you. For once, try something new and trust me.” Looking back over her shoulder, she almost surrendered to his beseeching look.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. Old habits of self-preservation and reminders of what happens when you place your trust in people overruled any longing she might have held in taking him at his word, in believing the declaration she could still see shining from his eyes, forcing her through the door and down the hall with his shouts of _Swan!_ following after her.

~/~

_It can’t be true. It just can’t be._

Once again Emma found herself pacing, but this time it was her own carpets being worn through after having returned home from her confrontation with Killian.

She couldn’t even begin to process everything he’d said to her. Her parents? A curse? Neal coming back for her? Their having met before? Not to mention the things he’d said about Echo Cave and shadows, having no way of knowing that she’d had dreams of such places and occurrences. To say nothing of the most astounding piece of information he’d professed while standing before her in the apartment of the only man she’d ever loved. Or so she had thought, until he had confessed his love for her.

_“In every reality.”_

_No_. Emma shook out her hands to dispel the nervous energy building up in her extremities and continued her path back and forth across the living room floor. _It isn’t possible. He’s working some sort of angle. He can’t love me. He doesn’t even know me._

_“You’re something of an open book.” … “I know you, Swan.”_

Stopping dead in her tracks, Emma realized she knew him, too. In a way that had seemed uncanny at first. How she had understood the depth of his pain from the loss of his brother, knew his beloved ship meant more to him than a mere possession, felt that bone deep certainty that she could trust him with her son, and had been willing to throw off all of her usual excuses in the hopes of taking that leap with him, because somehow she knew he’d already proven himself capable of winning her heart.

Emma felt her knees buckling and sank down onto the sofa as the front door flew open. Her eyes swung around, taking in Henry as he skipped his way into their apartment, completely unaware of her emotional turmoil.

“Hey, mom!” he greeted cheerily. “Did Killian ask you about us taking the _Jolly Roger_ out this week?”

Emma’s pulse rate spiked at her son’s mention of Killian. “What?”

“I asked him if we could take her for a sail, but he said he’d have to clear it with you first. Said we could do it later this week if you were _amenable_ to the idea.”

The way he emphasised the word, applying Killian’s accent to it and hammering home how close the two had become, might have been endearing if it weren’t for the panic Emma was now experiencing.

Licking her lips while willing her voice to remain steady, Emma replied. “Uh, no. He didn’t, and um… Actually, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you and Killian to be spending so much time together.”

Henry made his way over to the sofa, staring down at her with a confused expression. “Why not?

“Because,” she struggled for a moment, searching for a plausible excuse. “Because the case is over and he’s probably going to be moving on. I don’t want you getting attached when he’s just going to up and leave.”

“But…” Henry took a moment to clearly grapple with his own thoughts before he spoke. “He likes us. Don’t you think that’ll be enough to make him stay?”

“It’s not that easy, Henry,” she told him. Standing, she headed off towards her room, hoping to bring an end to the conversation.

“You're always looking for something to be wrong,” Henry accused, the sudden bite in his words causing her to balk. “You don't have to do that you know. Sometimes it's okay to accept that things are good. Like with Killian.”

“Killian Jones is many things, but I’m not convinced that good is one of them,” she replied with the clipped tone she reserved for when she was through discussing a matter, telling Henry in no uncertain terms to just let it go.

She ought to know better by now. He was her son after all.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded. “I know you’ve been keeping something from me, and now you won’t let me see Killian anymore. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“No, you don't!” Emma hated yelling at her son, especially when all the emotional upheaval she was experiencing had nothing to do with him. Nevertheless, his accusations weren’t unfounded, and she had to protect him from the truth. Whatever that may be. “I'm your mother and I know best. Go to your room, we are through discussing this.”

She hit the doorway to her own room when Henry asked, “Is Killian my father?”

Grabbing onto the doorjamb in order to keep her balance as she spun back around, Emma croaked out, “What? Why would you even think that?”

Henry’s eyes fell to the floor, his feet shuffling nervously beneath him. Emma barely heard his answer, but that didn’t stop it from turning her world upside down.

“Because of my dream.”

Suspended in the same sequence of impossibility with prickles of validation rippling over her skin as it had when she was with Killian earlier, Emma exhaled, “What dream?”

“I started having it right after we moved here,” he began. “I’m standing at the helm of a tall ship with my dad. I can’t… he never shows up clearly in the dream. He’s sort of fuzzy and muffled, but I know he’s my dad. He’s teaching me to sail and telling me all about the adventures he’s had. It’s why…” he looked up at her with a guilty expression as he confessed, “It’s why I wanted to sign up for the sailing class.”

“Henry,” Emma couldn’t manage anymore words past that one, too caught up in the fact that he also had been having dreams with mysterious figures ever since they relocated to New York. “I…” Again, words failed her, sticking to her tongue and choking in the back of her throat. “I can’t do this right now,” she finally managed to get out.

“Mom,” Henry pressed, taking several steps in her direction.

“Henry, no,” she snapped. “That’s just a dream, it’s not… It’s not real. And Killian is not your father, alright. Now just drop it.” Henry’s face became pinched with a mixture of sadness and pain, tugging on Emma’s heart and sending a stinging prick to the corner of each eye. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she gave it a gentle squeeze and said, “I’m sorry, kid. I’ve had a long day and just want to take a nice, long bath and go to bed. Do you think we could talk about this tomorrow after we’ve both calmed down and had some rest?”

“Sure, mom,” he mumbled, flicking his eyes up to her, and looking too much like his father in that moment. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Trudging off to his room, it wasn’t until after Emma heard the door click that she released a tight breath and slumped into the door jamb. The foundations she had come to count on were no longer capable of supporting her. The very fabric of her reality was fraying at its edges and she couldn’t tell which way was up anymore. How would she be able to protect her son when she couldn’t even trust her mind, her own memories?

The one thing she could depend on was her ability to compartmentalize, so tonight, that was exactly what she was going to do. With a bottle of wine, a hot bath, and no more thoughts of dreams or curses or piercing blue eyes and accented declarations. Unfortunately, the further she relaxed into the steaming water the more she couldn’t deny things any longer. Killian had been right. Things hadn’t sat right within herself for a very long time, and she could no longer write off the dreams she and Henry had been experiencing as mere coincidence. While she wasn’t ready to fully buy into all of Killian’s claims - or allow herself to fully embrace one in particular - Emma knew she had to give him the chance to prove them.

First thing tomorrow, she would go down to the precinct and bail him out. Maybe she could get Avery’s parents to watch Henry for a few days while she went with Killian to this Storybrooke place? She wasn’t ready to pull her son into the crazy if it all turned out to be a wild goose chase. The faint sound of the front door being pulled closed told her she may not get a choice in the matter, though.

~/~

Slouched against the mast, washing down his sorrows with flask in hand, Killian stared up at the stars, replaying those minutes with Emma in Neals’ apartment, wondering how it had all gone so horribly wrong.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the truth from her should she question him directly, and frankly, he was tired of the ruse. Having made the decision to come clean before he even crossed the building’s threshold, Killian knew the outcome of their confrontation would have ended the same way even if he’d tried to salvage the subterfuge.

A smirk ticked up at the corner of his mouth and an amused breath escaped his lungs. Confrontations with his Swan always ended up with him chained to something. Fortunately, pirate that he was, he’d been able to make short work of the locking mechanism before the authorities arrived.

Neal had been none too pleased with Killian’s account of things when he got back. Arguing that Killian should have let him come along as he’d wanted to after Emma had sent the text, but Killian still believed that would have only made matters worse.

Although, honestly, he couldn’t imagine the situation being much worse than it was now.

Heavy slaps of rushed feet pulled Killian’s attention towards the dock, prompting him to get off his arse and see what the commotion was. To say he was surprised to see Henry running up the gangplank would be an understatement.

“Henry, lad. You really shouldn't be here.” He shuddered to think what Emma would do if she found him there. He felt himself fortunate she hadn’t put together the fact his _first mate_ , whose presence he’d cleared with her earlier, was in fact the very man she’d been trying to keep her son away from.

“Are... you my… dad?” Henry panted, bent over with his hands braced against his knees, unwilling to even catch his breath before dropping such a bombshell of an inquiry.

“Am I, what?” Killian blurted, utterly flabbergasted by the question and distracted by the frantic call of Henry’s name as Emma shouted for him from the end of the pier.

“Are you my dad?” Henry asked again, barreling on about some dream he’d had that included a faint impression of a man he knew to be his father standing next to him at the helm of a ship. “ _This_ ship,” Henry insisted with a fervent look in his eyes that did not waiver once his mother finally made it aboard.

Killian knelt before Henry and placed a hand on his shoulder. “As much as it would honor me to call you son, I’m afraid that isn’t the case. I’m not your father, Henry.”

Emma hadn’t even had time to catch her own breath when Killian could see it visibly stolen away once more as a gruff voice sounded from the shadows.

“I am,” Neal said, stepping forward into the moonlight and dim glow the dock lights cast over the railings.

Henry’s forehead scrunched up, his eyes bouncing from Neal back to Killian, “But I thought… the dream? The wish? It all pointed to you? And I know something is going on between you and my mom, because--”

“Henry, I’m sorry.”

Killian stood, allowing Emma space to take his place before her son as he stepped back to stand next to Neal.

“I should have been honest with you, I should have told you everything, but I wasn’t ready to accept…” Her eyes flicked up to Killian’s, an apology cast his way through the veridian sparkle made visible by the moonlight. “I’ve been having dreams too, and…” Her brows pinched together and her head snapped back to Henry’s, “What wish?”

“At the fountain,” Henry answered. “Remember, the last time you took me there?”

“Yeah,” Emma drawled slowly. “You were upset about something. I thought maybe something happened at school?”

“It was because of you.” Henry took her hand in his and confided, “I could tell you were lonely, so I wished our family would be complete, and do you know what happened a few days later?”

Emma’s eyes flicked up and landed on Neal, her face draining of color.

“Bloody hell,” Killian breathed out as Henry continued on.

“The pirate ship I had been dreaming about showed up in the harbor and I met Killian at your office, and it was so obvious that the two of you--”

“Actually, kid,” Neal spoke up, taking another step forward as Henry turned towards him. “I’m pretty sure the very next day is when I showed up on your doorstep after traveling here with Killian on his ship.”

The look in Emma’s eyes confirmed that assumption, and now it was her turn to relinquish the spot in front of Henry as Neal sank down onto one knee.

“You see, that dream you’ve been having is actually a memory,” he went on to explain, weaving the tale from where it started for them, he and his son. Here in New York, little more than one year ago.

Killian tried to keep his attention focused on what the man was saying, but Emma’s sudden presence beside him was more than a little distracting. Even with the dreams and knowledge of her son’s wish, how much of the truth was she willing to accept? To what lengths was she willing to suspend logic and set aside doubt? How far was she willing to leap in that faith he had no way of substantiating, unable to restore her memories and only holding onto a shred of hope that someone in Storybrooke might be able to. How much truth were her walls willing to let in?

Even now, as Neal told the story to Henry, Killian wondered how much of it Emma believed. The rogue tear tumbling along her cheek did not escape his notice when Neal came to the part where he vowed to never stop fighting for her and his son. It’s descent mapped a path his heart soon began to follow; sinking lower and lower as he considered the implications of it and Henry’s wish. Killian could only imagine what it must mean to Emma to know Neal had come back for her, a detail the man emphasized rather heavily when he told them of the missive he’d received from his father.

At least he gave Killian his due for the part he played in the rescue, and how he’d been willing to do anything in order to help Neal get back to them.

“He even almost traded his own ship in exchange for Blackbeard’s magic bean until I found a giant who was willing to give us one.”

Emma gasped and swiveled her head to look up at him. “You were going to trade your ship?”

“Aye,” Killian replied, holding her gaze while silently imparting, _I’d do anything for you._

Stretching up on her toes, Emma pressed her lips against his before he could fully comprehend her intent. It didn’t take but a heartbeat for him to instinctively wrap his arms around her waist and pull her closer. Sliding his lips over hers, he’d only just begun to relish the moment when a quiver of magic trembled over their joined lips before expelling outward in a kaleidoscope of colors. Pulling back with wide eyed wonder, Killian watched as Emma’s eyes fluttered open, a spark of recognition flaring to life within their green depths.

“Hook,” she uttered on a stunned breath.

Unsure of how she would react with the return of her memories, he dropped his arms and offered her his usual roguish smirk as he quipped, “Did you miss me?”

He had not expected her to respond by grasping his lapels and pulling him in for another kiss, but he was also assuredly not complaining.

Like the first, this one was cut far too short for his liking, but he couldn’t really begrudge Henry his moment of clarity when he exclaimed, _Dad!_ and threw his arms around Neals’ neck, the two hugging tightly before Henry ran over to embrace his mother. Killian looked over at Neal, steeling himself for the man’s reaction. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes when he simply gave Killian a resolved look of understanding and a quick nod of acceptance.

Who were any of them to argue the meaning of a True Love’s Kiss?

A pondering that had Killian reeling momentarily before he felt Emma’s slender hand slip into his own. Although he could see a hint of trepidation in her eyes at the magnitude of what had occurred between them, he also saw a gleam of something he’d only ever hoped for in his wildest dreams. A gleam and a soft, shy smile that would sustain him just fine until they were _both_ ready to put the feelings that had rippled through the night sky in a wave of prismatic hues into words.

“What do you say, Captain?” Neal said, getting to his feet once more. “Shall we get the _Jolly Roger_ ready to set sail while Emma and Henry pack their things?”

“Aye.” Glancing down at the woman beside him, Killian murmured, “I would imagine you are eager to get home and see your parents.”

“Home,” Emma rolled off her tongue as if sampling the taste of it. Her eyes flicked over to Neal who had Henry caught up in another hug, then rested her gaze on Killian once more. “You know, Neal once told me home is the place where, when you leave, you just miss it.” Killian nuzzled his face into her palm when she reached up to place her hand at his jawline before gently guiding his mouth towards hers. “So, yes,” she sighed, the murmur of her words vibrating against his lips. “I missed you, Killian.”


End file.
